Up next: The ‘inner voice chronicles’…

Ciao everybody! I could never have imagined it would come to this! Here I am behaving like my soul sister Eva Peron and singing,“Don’t cry for me, Bharatwaasis…. the truth is, I never left you…” all because of that old man and his gossip. I want to holler, “never ever ever ever ever” But then, that line has a copyright on it. And I don’t want to anger ‘The Most Important Television Anchor in India’s History’. However, I realize there are a few things the nation wants to know and that India needs answers to. And I have them! These answers will be available to all — not just Indians, but my friends and admirers across the world. I have started writing my book. And unlike that old man’s book which is full of trivial tidbits, mine will be the definitive chronicle of an era during which I reigned supreme as the Empress of India. Ignorant people foolishly referred to me as the Remote Control. There was nothing remote about my control. It was absolute and unchallenged. Ask anyone. Ask Manmohanji. People also say I had pressed his mute button. Not true. He had pressed it himself. He told me he’d been diagnosed with permanent laryngitis and could not find his voice.

It’s a good thing I found mine when I needed it the most. Of course, it was my inner voice (I believe it is called ‘andar ki awaaz’ in some local language) and only I heard it. But so what? I listened to it and refused ‘The Most Important Job in India.” How many women in my position would have done that? If you ask me, I saved myself… even though my critics are saying I actually saved India. A pity the old man is twisting all the facts and pretending he was my best friend and confidante during those difficult days. Read what Ghulam Nabi Azad has said. It was Azad who was in the ‘thick of action’ in 2004. The only favour the old man ever did was to wake up Atalji in the middle of the night and demand security for me in my New York hotel suite. Anybody who knows me even a little will tell you I have no best friends and no confidantes. I trust nobody but myself. I expected a Cambridge-educated, self-styled intellectual to know better than to write such flimsy, irresponsible stuff just to attract attention. That’s the trouble with men and their egos. They don’t know how to handle rejection with dignity. Why did he have to pen such a mean book about me? He calls me ‘ruthless’… the cheek of it all! I’ll show him the real meaning of ruthless when I write my own book. He says a part of me is ‘not Indian’. Which part? I challenge him to identify this part! Whose ‘rump’ was he referring to? Look at me — what is un-Indian about me? I wear handloom sarees and long-sleeved blouses, like my mother-in-law taught me to. I greet everybody (except foreign heads of state) with a namaste. I even read out speeches in Hindi (okay, the script may be Roman). Most importantly, I adore my son and listen to him. How much more Indian does he want me to be? A man scorned is much worse than a woman scorned.

Isn’t it funny that all the people I snubbed and stopped inviting to intimate dinners at home, went and wrote nasty books about me! Really, Indians have such thin skins. The old man would never have written his autobiography had I not thrown him out of the coterie. I had to! He was so naughty during the food-for-oil crisis with Iraq. I had no choice but to distance myself ! Does that justify his personal revelations about my private moments? I believe in India such people are called ‘namak-haraam’ (‘those who insult salt’ — don’t ask! We don’t have an equivalent term in Italian, so it’s difficult for me to translate this). My son kept warning me about people like the old man, who had privileged access to our family for decades. I tolerated him because of his connections to my late husband, that’s all. In Italy we are taught to trust and rely on The Family, which includes loyal lieutenants and other household pets. That was my biggest mistake.

Let me repeat: I am not hurt I am not hurt I am not hurt. Okay? People are asking me why I went to see the old man along with my daughter recently, after I had shunned him for years. They think we went there to beg of him not to publish the book. Rubbish! I want everybody to know the truth about our visit once and for all: We went there to thank him. Yes, to thank him. Given all that he knew about me and my way of functioning, the book could have been a lot worse! Fortunately, there are no really damaging revelations in it. Only bazaar gossip that will soon be forgotten. And if I had only realized earlier that he would get such a huge kick out of my hug, I would have definitely hugged him several times — before he wrote the book! Oh… that’s Ahmed on the phone. I hope it’s not to break the news that he too is writing a tell-all book! It may start an epidemic. I’d better hurry up and write my ‘Inner Voice Chronicles’ and beat the rest to it. Rahul told me, “Mummy, just do it!” Rahul can’t be wrong. Rahul is never wrong!

DISCLAIMER : Views expressed above are the author's own.

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One of India's most popular writers, Shobhaa De has seen it all: life as a model, a copywriter, a journalist, a socialite, a scriptwriter, a bestselling novelist and a busy mother of six children. "Politically Incorrect", which has been appearing as a column in The Times of India, carries her sharp observations on politics, society, economy and relationships.

One of India's most popular writers, Shobhaa De has seen it all: life as a model, a copywriter, a journalist, a socialite, a scriptwriter, a bestselling nov. . .